FROM PURGATORY

I made a mistake. I should have known better…now, I’m dead.

Long ago, I was trying to run away from the nightmares of not having an identity to create within the depths of my world. I was besieged by the idea of playing someone else’s role. I was never thankful to the “gift of being” my Creator had given me.

There was never a moment of satisfaction.

A creation of something or someone I will never know, which is invariably always in my thoughts, will temporarily soothe the cringing pain robbing the very insanity of which heavens bestowed upon this soul.

Pain –he is my brother…and my robber.

Perhaps my anguish, a silent one, will never be heard.
And I guess some things are learned when you are already kissing the grave and when the coldness of the ground, which embraces you, is the only mantle of consolation present within.

The cry of an excruciating pain will always follow me, like a shadow or like the wind.
No. Do not tell me that I did not try. Do not tell me that I did not bother to take it off. It was my long-time yearning to emancipate myself from this desolation and despair. But I find no victory at all.

I cried so loud because I was dead, yet the birds still continue to sing the melody of living. I envy them a thousand times.
I tried to end the misery and the pessimism of my little freak mind but I still find no refuge at all. And no, not even a tear from the clouds nor the streak of sunshine could fathom my agony. From the moment I step my vision here, I beg my mind to numb my heart and wash the guilt away.

I tried. Believe me I tried.
I collected all efforts left to tell you how painful it was.
No one hears my voice. No one feels my sorrow. No one sees my pain.
Still, I know I made a mistake and I should have known better…
Now, here I am, wanting to be free.
The former place of abode I called home did not teach me to live the parcel of my life or even to laugh out my essence. I was a slave of a bitter curiosity and of a contemptuous culture. And now, I shall reside here with only a fringe of light that forms only from above. I do not understand why I am still fighting to live from the battle of the dead. Perhaps it is for me to taste the wine of eternal happiness.
But why am I still dwelling from the realities of my nightmares? Why am I still hearing the horrible footsteps and knocks of my past?
You see I quest for freedom. I seek forgiveness. I want a prayer. And I need God.
If only I could touch Him.
If only…